Helen Burns: The Story of my Life
by christinesangel100
Summary: Helen Burns never had an easy life. This is the story of her past. This is how she felt. This was my homework for English, so I deided to upload it. Sadly, we have to read the Abridged Version. I just read the normal one.


Helen Burns-The story of my life

_**Helen Burns-The story of my life**_

My life was hard from the beginning. I never really had a caring family. My mother died when I was born, in childbirth.

So, I never really knew my mother. My father was never kind to me, but I learned to forgive them all for the mean comments they made a bout me. My father beat me, and treated me the worst out of my brothers and sisters. I was the youngest.

It wasn't surprising really. He had loved my mother very much, and it seemed I was too blame for her awful death. If she had been alive, I am sure I would have had a wonderful life. She would have treated me kindly, and cared for me. She would have looked after me and helped me learn and grow strong.

She would have been such a wonderful mother. However, I did not get to meet her, for less than an hour after I had been born, she was dead.

My father and my siblings all hated me. They absolutely detested me, and did not try to hide it. I knew they hated me, and they knew I knew. They thought it was all due to me that mother died. Of course, if I had not been born, she would not have died, so they had reason.  
I still blame myself that she died. I forgive my family, for what is the use of hating them? I do not. They had reason to do what they did, and I know that as mean as they were to me, I will have a better life.

Father used to beat me, sometimes. Occasionally, he would proclaim me a liar, and strike me. This when I was a very young child. As I grew older, I started to hate them.

Now, I hate myself for it. I know it was not my fault, but I still feel I am to blame. That is why I feel so strongly that we should not hate people now. All due to that…

My father beat me often, and my family treated me as less than a servant. They had no reason to, but they did not like me, or care for me, as I cared for them. Even as I grew to hate them, I cared for them, and wished I could not hate them. We were a bit poor, so did not have many servants.

I had a small room to myself, and was expected to do exactly as I was told, even if one of my older siblings ordered me to do something I was expected to obey. My punishment for killing mother. She must have been a lovely person, for mothers die in childbirth all the time. I know it is horrible to not have a mother, but I never knew her. They did, and would miss her most terribly.

As much as possible, I would go to the library to read. I would read about far away places, and our history. I would read about anything, and learn.

Then all my family became ill. I do not now how I survived. At first, I wished I had died, I wished I had perished with the illness. I did not catch the disease. By some miracle, I survived, and even to this day I wish I had not.

More than that, I wish they had survived, or that they had never caught the disease. Why I did not catch it will always remain a mystery, no one ever knowing the answer. I thanked the Lord for my live, although at times I wished I did not have it. I realised that I was wrong to hate my family, as they looked after me, and although they were sometimes cruel to me, they were the only relations I had, and were kind to me as well. Why, on my birthday, if I think of how wonderful they all were to me! As well as it being the day Mother died, it was my birthday. They let me read, and gave me nice meals. They looked after me and were kind. Once when I was ill, two of my siblings stayed in my room all night to comfort me and to make me feel better. It was strange, but now they were gone, it was the happiest memories I could remember, and I hated myself for hating them, as I should not have. I could never forgive myself for hating them, when they had been kind to me through the meanness. I had no real reason to hate them, or so I thought.

When father had died, my only other relation, my widow aunt, took me in, but I was so distraught by that time she could hardly look after me, and I was becoming ill.

That was why she chose to enrol me at Lowood School. Mr Brocklehurst came, tall and proud; to make sure I would be able to come.

Almost as if to test me, to see if I was good. I left for Lowood, taking with me a book to read, my favourite one from the library at home.

I love reading, you see. It was always my favourite pastime. I could escape into such different worlds, a different life. I could let go of all my burdens and guilt, and become a completely different person, escaping into a story.

I became ill when I was there, and I knew it was a serious illness. A new Girl, name Jane Eyre, came and talked to me once. She asked whether my book was interesting, and all sorts of other questions. We became good friends, actually.

One day, Mr Brocklehurst came to the school. He complained about many things, telling Miss Temple she could not give us lunches of Bread and Cheese, which she had done when our breakfast was uneatable. He said that none of us should have curly hair, or fancy clothes. After he had finished saying al this, his daughters came in. They had curly hair and wore fancy dresses, which was very different to what he had just told us, of course.

Then, a slate fell to the floor, and before I turned around, I could guess who it was.

Jane.

She was told to go up to him, where he proclaimed that she was a lair, and a wicked child. I knew she was not, and she looked so embarrassed and upset. I knew her dropping her slate had been an accident.

He told us she was to stand there for half an hour, and no one was to speak to her for the rest of the day. As we left, I raised my eyes to hers, and smiled to her.

When she was allowed to come down, I went and sat with her.

Later that day, we went to talk to Miss Temple, who gave us toast and tea. She was so kind, and let Jane tell her the whole story. She believed Jane, and said that if the Doctor confirmed her story, she would announce to the whole school that Jane was innocent.

She asked me if I had been coughing, and if the pains were better. They were a bit better that day.

Jane is a nice person, and Miss Temple did as she promised, and the whole school knows that Jane is not a liar, but a nice person.

She is also a great friend.


End file.
